


Percussive

by en passant (corinthian)



Series: nothing in particular [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Kiryuu's third time taking Comp 101, which he needs to graduate. Yuusei needs Comp 101 for his transfer credits -- he's hoping to get into State, better late than never, right?</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>i think literally everyone is thirsty in the wrong direction in this</p>
            </blockquote>





	Percussive

Morning classes blew — and, really, Kiryuu wasn’t much of a _school_ kind of guy to begin with. He was like three years older, at least, than everyone else in the class and it was the shittiest most boring class in the world — Composition 101. Essentially, how to bullshit your way through college. He’d already taken the class two times before, but the first time he’d had to leave school for _personal_ reasons and the second time he’d just flunked. The school’s policy was take it until you make it — basically, keep paying them money. He’d figured out their school scam, shell out for useless things and then get stuck, paying and paying to get a useless degree.

Really, he should just drop out for good, but he’d promised to try one more time. But it was the first day of class, the teacher was seven minutes late and counting and he already was thinking he should just bounce. Then a disaster walks in and Kiryuu knows this semester is going to be different.

Kid’s got a serious case of not brushing his hair, but that’s not even the disaster part. He’s carrying what looks like an exhaust pipe from a car, and there’s a big black smear of soot across one cheek, down his shirt and jeans. If Kiryuu had to guess, it looked a bit like he’d stood behind a car that had backfired and then gotten elbow deep in the engine and all. Not that Kiryuu knew much about cars, really.

He doesn’t even pick a seat in the back, just walks up to a seat near the front of the classroom and sets the absolutely filthy car part down on it, drops his book bag on the floor which clatters with a decidedly metal noise and then seats himself. The girls next to Kiryuu laugh — one mentions that he looks cute, the other rolls her eyes and whispers back _gross._

Even the teacher can’t ignore the disaster when she walks in — twelve minutes late — and starts to pass out syllabi. During roll call (“Fudou, Yuusei”) she interrupts his “here” with, “’ll have you know that I don’t normally allow spare auto-parts to also partake in my lectures. Try to leave that behind before class.” He doesn’t even look embarrassed, just nods.

After class — the first one is always a bore, just syllabi and a fake writing exercise to _get to know them_ , this time it had been ‘where do you see yourself in five years?’ and Kiryuu had written _still trapped at this shitty school._ He just needed to pass Comp, not get an A.

“Yo, Yuusei.” Kiryuu bumps shoulders with Yuusei.

“Hey. . .” For a moment, Kiryuu wonders if this means Yuusei wasn’t paying attention during roll call at all — which is the _only_ part of class worth paying attention to, Kiryuu always uses it to figure out who’s worth it and who isn’t. “Kyousuke?”

“Kiryuu, only my family calls me Kyousuke.”

“Kiryuu, then.” Yuusei doesn’t question it — something that’s immediately endearing. In Kiryuu’s experience, people are always trying to figure out why he does a certain thing. Why the name, why the attitude, why does he _try_ to fail out so much! They’re always wrong at whatever conclusion they draw, anyway. “Can I help you?” And Yuusei says it so earnestly, face so serious, that Kiryuu wonders if it’s a joke. No one is that earnest. But a moment passes and another and Yuusei’s still focused on Kiryuu and only then Kiryuu and he realizes it isn’t a joke at all. His mouth works, for some reason his throat’s gone dry and Kiryuu can’t deny it, something strange has happened inside his chest.

“. . . what’s with the lead pipe,” he finally cracks a joke.

Yuusei hefts it, “Not lead. I’m going to go look for a replacement.”

“Your car broke down?”

“Nah, don’t own a car.” Yuusei doesn’t elaborate at all, just pushes out the front doors of the classroom building. Kiryuu follows along — he has two more classes today, but who cares? “Ever been junkyard diving before?”

“Is that like dumpster diving but in the junkyard?” Kiryuu hazards. Yuusei smiles — it’s small, kind of mysterious because it still doesn’t seem to reach his eyes and his face is still so serious.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Never.”

“Want to come along? I could use the company.”

Kiryuu agrees instantly.

It turns out that junkyard diving is a lot of work. Everything is heavy and dirty and while Yuusei has thick gloves, Kiryuu doesn’t, so he mostly shoves things around with his foot and tries to help Yuusei find a match for the exhaust pipe in his hand. They spend hours sorting through things before they find something Yuusei deems appropriate. Along the way they end up with a pair of hub caps, a glove compartment front and three mismatched car door handles — all things that Yuusei stuffs into a duffle.

“You do this often?” Kiryuu asks, as Yuusei examines the find, holds it up to the one he brought and scrutinizes.

“Occasionally. This is perfect.” Yuusei smiles again, larger than before but still just as serious. “I owe you.”

“I didn’t even find it.” Kiryuu shrugs. “Besides, I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“It’s still appreciated.” Yuusei keeps both exhaust pipes, even the one that was apparently broken. On the walk back towards campus he explains that he was late to class because he came across a stranded motorist and offered to repair their car.

“No way,” Kiryuu says. “That’s nice of you.” He guesses. From the hours he’s spent with Yuusei so far he knows that Yuusei isn’t the kind of person who would use that as an excuse to skip class. Kiryuu isn’t either — he’d just skip, who needs the excuse.

That makes Yuusei laugh. It’s a small laugh and it’s not that Yuusei tries to hide it but the sound is just soft in Kiryuu’s ears.

“I like cars. Well, things with wheels and engines,” Yuusei has to clarify himself. “It’s a hobby.”

“Well, I’ve got to split, but let’s hang out again sometime. I’ll see you in class.” Kiryuu offers a hand. “Nice to meet you, the semester’s already looking up.” And he _swears_ he can see some kind of genuinely touched surprise on Yuusei’s face, before they shake hands.

“Yeah, same here. See you.” Yuusei trundles off with his arms full of junk metal. It’s still the most ridiculous thing Kiryuu has seen all year, but he can’t deny being excited about it. Maybe this semester would be different.

* * *

Yuusei and Kiryuu go to class at about the same rate — which is to say, not very often. They see each other once a week, tops, because they also seem to alternate days being gone. Which means that every class period is Kiryuu sitting in the back and calculating how many skip days he has left before he fails and if he really needs to write ten whole pages for his paper or if he could just write like six and still get enough points to pass. The answer is that he doesn’t have nearly enough skip days left and yes, he does have to write actually ten whole pages.

Of course, when Yuusei is in class he sits in the front row, like a good student, and even takes notes. Kiryuu wonders what Yuusei’s notes are about since the class is all about the thesis and concrete evidence and stuff that they learned in high school. But when they are in class at the same time, Yuusei is always leaning over the desk, writing furiously. Needing to know if Yuusei was actually taking notes or just a really intense doodler, Kiryuu moves from his normal seat in the back row to one along the wall, but in the front row, to try and catch sight of what Yuusei’s doing. Yuusei takes notes with the most intense expression Kiryuu has ever seen on a student. It’s bordering parodic.

They always wait for each other after class — sometimes Kiryuu stays behind because the professor needs to talk to him, sometimes Yuusei stays behind to ask questions — and this time it’s Kiryuu loitering in the hall while Yuusei spend fifteen minutes doing _something_ after class. When Yuusei finally emerges, Kiryuu’s already too late to make it to his next class (Stats), so he decides to skip.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat.” He urges.

Yuusei knows Kiryuu has class, but he doesn’t bring it up, just concedes to Kiryuu’s whim and they head down to the closest off-campus eatery — Subway. They get a bag of chips, the three-cookies-for-two-dollars special and a soft drink to split. Early on, they discovered that they were both cheap and split meals whenever they could.

“Can I see your notes?” Kiryuu asks, studding his chocolate chip cookie with Doritos before taking a bite.

“Sure,” Yuusei digs into his backpack and hands them over. Somehow, between class and now, his notes have acquired a grease and dirt smudge — the kind of grim that was ever present with Yuusei, from junkyards and car repairs and god only knows what. Kiryuu doesn’t mind though, he flicks open the notebook and scrutinizes the notes.

They are, in fact, class notes. Yuusei’s handwriting is small and cramped and almost illegible. He writes in half-all capitals and half connected pseudo-cursive. There’s pages and pages of notes, Kiryuu can’t believe there’s so many. But when he starts reading them, it all makes sense.

“. . . this is verbatim.”

“Hm?”

“You wrote everything down, everything that old bat said.” Kiryuu laughs. “No wonder you’re always so intense during class!” Yuusei blinks at him, with the kind of open naive expression that Kiryuu has come to appreciate.

“Yeah.”

“Why bother?”

There, he’s struck Yuusei’s rare embarrassment. Despite not being the kind of guy who gets riled up easily — someone could insult him to the moon and back and Yuusei wouldn’t bat an eyelash — there’s a few things that get him flustered. Kiryuu can’t help but enjoy them, because the steady neutral expression Yuusei’s face will slide off and reveal something so much more real. Every emotion that Yuusei telegraphs is always so intense, it’s just usually calm acceptance — so any other feeling is something Kiryuu latches onto, likes to pull out.

“I’m — not passing,” Yuusei admits.

“You mean, you’re failing?” Kiryuu asks.

“Shut up,” Yuusei mutters, but nods.

“Shit, don’t be me,” Kiryuu leans back. He wouldn’t have expected Yuusei to be failing, out of the two of them Yuusei’s the good student. Does his homework, even does revisions on his papers and stuff. Kiryuu kind of one-and-dones them and figures he deserves whatever grade he gets — though he’s currently scraping by with a very low C, just enough to pass. “You know, if you don’t pass you’ll have to take it over again?”

“I’m trying,” Yuusei pokes at his cookie with unusual petulance. “Was going to try and transfer next year.”

So that explained it. Kiryuu knew lots of people who did it — went to community college, gathered credits and bumped their GPA up so they could transfer to State or other places. It never really interested him, more school for an even higher price point.

“Why? Where were you headed?”

And then Kiryuu sees it. There’s a tiny secret smile, not quite a full-blown smile — one part amused, one part fond, one part something else that Kiryuu can’t put his finger on. Something in the corner of his lung itches and he leans across the table.

“There’s someone I’ve got to catch up to.” Yuusei says it so simply, the same way someone might say they need to go buy groceries, weed the garden, get some gas. But that odd expression hasn’t left his face and Kiryuu decides he likes it.

“Better run faster then,” he replies, but reaches out and grabs the collar of Yuusei’s jacket with both hands and draws him closer so their foreheads bump together. He’s never been shy with touch, but Yuusei’s usually pretty reserved and Kiryuu let’s him have that space. Honestly, he doesn’t know why, though, especially when Yuusei doesn’t pull back, just smiles a little bigger. “We’re both better than that class, so don’t let it get you down.” It was kind of encouragement, it would have been mostly encouragement except his voice had dropped in volume and his wrists turned in, pulling Yuusei even closer.

“Still got to pass it.”

Kiryuu turns his head a little, but they haven’t broken eye contact yet and Yuusei’s trying hard not to blink, even as his eyes keep slipping almost shut. “So, pass it.”

Yuusei braces his hands on the table between them, and Kiryuu feels him look down at the table, he’s treated to just a face full of Yuusei’s hair. Little tremors had Yuusei’s hair tickling his face and Kiryuu was about to swat him out of the way when he realized Yuusei was laughing. It was soft, almost silent, laughter that shook from his chest down to the rest of his body. Then he lifts his face and that little fond smile was gone — but replaced with something much better. Instead of _wistful_ and faraway the smile was turned on Kiryuu and only Kiryuu.

“Yeah, just pass it.” And it’s Yuusei who closes the minute distance between them to briefly press his lips to Kiryuu’s. Then he pulls back, just enough to try and catch Kiryuu’s expression — there’s no doubt or apology on Yuusei’s face, but Kiryuu _knows_ Yuusei won’t push it if he’s rejected.

So, Kiryuu says, “That all?”

They get kicked out of Subway.

* * *

After midterms, Yuusei and Kiryuu decide to “get serious” about studying — it means actually going to class and having Thursday homework sessions at Kiryuu’s. They tried to study at Yuusei’s but not only did Yuusei rent a room out of a fabricated home where four other people lived, but there was like zero insulation in the walls and by late autumn it was cold enough that Kiryuu had to wear gloves _inside_. Kiryuu’s place was a little warmer, because the government still cut checks for Nico and West and their dad — even if Mr. Harmon was only awake for an hour a day, maximum.

Yuusei didn’t ask any questions, not about Nico and West, or about the bedbound Mr. Harmon, or the house that was old and large and had been hard won back from the bank. Kiryuu didn’t really want to explain, so he waited until Nico and West went to bed and he and Yuusei were splitting a pot of coffee and pack of Ritz crackers Yuusei had brought.

“He was in a pretty bad car accident,” Kiryuu nods up, Mr. Harmon’s room was right above the kitchen, caddy corner to West’s and right next to Nico’s. “Drunk driver, got off with _community service_. What the fuck. I bet he paid his way out. That’s how it works, huh, get rich and get away with anything, all the way up to murder.” He doesn’t bother to try and hide the bitterness in his voice. Yuusei just listens, attentive as always, and then drags his chair around the table so they can sit on the same side and he can bump shoulders with Kiryuu. Out of the two of them, Kiryuu’s always faster with the physical affection, but Yuusei always seems to intuit when Kiryuu needs to be met halfway.

“You’re doing great.” Yuusei’s always encouraging and the worst part is, he always means it.

“Nico made me promise to finally graduate, she said it’d be a good example for West. I hate this bullshit, it’s just playing into their hands. After college then a boring office job where no one thinks for themselves or makes trouble,” Kiryuu snorts. He doesn’t have to say, _I’m trying hard to not disappoint them_ , he doesn’t need to, but he does add, “So, this is desperate for both of us.”

“You won’t mess this up,” Yuusei says, with absolute belief in him. Kiryuu’s not so sure — he had to beg back into school after last year, when he failed out and took a bat to the chemistry building windows. It had really, probably, been luck and pity that they let him come back, which burned just as badly as Nico’s disappointment in him.

“It’d be easier if we just burned down the school. Or maybe if the prof had a car accident,” he only halfway means it. “Do you ever think about that? Wouldn’t have to go to class then.”

Yuusei’s silent for a moment, then he carefully drops his arm around Kiryuu. “You wouldn’t graduate then.” He says, and says it fiercely, and Kiryuu knows that even Yuusei has doubts in him.

“Ha! True. One more go and we should be done for the night.”

It’s another ninety minutes before they both have papers that they can turn in and they’ve been through the entire package of crackers and a third pot of coffee by then. It’s late, 2 a.m., but neither of them feels tired. Yuusei keeps rereading his essay, as if he’ll find something else to fix but he’s been doing that for the past twenty minutes and Kiryuu is beyond _done_ with schoolwork.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Kiryuu says.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

So they pack their backpacks, and Kiryuu leaves Nico and West a note. Neither of them has a car and after three attempts to ask if Yuusei knew how to hotwire one, they settle on walking back to Yuusei’s to get his motorcycle. Yuusei’s finally gotten a good paint job on it and salvaged a seat cover from his last junkyard dive. It’s a lot more comfortable than the last time they rode double on it, and Kiryuu settles easily behind Yuusei on the bike.

“Just drive,” he shouts into the night.

Yuusei drives. It’s dark, the sun hasn’t even started to come out yet and when Kiryuu says _faster_ in his ear he throttles it until they’re speeding down the road and it feels like they’re zipping through a tunnel into oblivion. There’s only the light from the motorcycle’s headlights, and even the landscape is one formless dark blob.

By the time the sun comes up, they’re a town over and Yuusei’s run out of gas. The thrill of the ride has worn off — helped by the fact that they take turns pushing the bike down the road — but Kiryuu can’t help the grin on his face. And, in another ten minutes they push the bike into the lot at a gas station, that’s not due to open before seven a.m. Yuusei parks the bike and sits on the curb next to the ice chest outside the station, Kiryuu stands in front of him and throws both his arms open wide.

“That was awesome! Shit, Yuusei. I’ve never felt better after an all-nighter.”

Yuusei’s smile is just a little wistful, and Kiryuu knows he’s thinking of _elsewhere_.

“This morning is just for us,” Kiryuu drags Yuusei up off the curb, pulls him tight against him in a hug. “Let’s celebrate.”

“Station will open soon.” Yuusei’s not quite protesting, they have probably thirty minutes, unless the employee comes early. “Maybe — “

Kiryuu smashes his mouth into Yuusei’s then, it’s a kiss but it’s hurried and maybe he’s careless because he’s been awake all night or because he doesn’t want Yuusei to say that they’ll be late to class if they wait, maybe they should get call car service or something. It feels more like bruising than kissing but when they break apart, Yuusei’s focus is all on Kiryuu and that wistful smile has twisted up to show Yuusei’s teeth in a grin.

The harder he pushes Yuusei, usually, the better the return.

The gas station attendant that opens is late — but neither of them notice. By the time they get gas, it seems impossible to get back in town before class, but Yuusei breaks every speed limit in an attempt.

And, neither of them pass Composition 101 that semester.

* * *

Nico always gives Yuusei a bit of a stinkeye when he comes by to study — summer classes were in swing and it was now, actually, their last shot to get Comp 101 done. Kiryuu was only taking Comp 101, but Yuusei was taking Comp and Intro to Western Civ 095.

“Didn’t take it during high school?” Kiryuu asks, tapping the textbook Yuusei’s dropped on the table with an uncharacteristic groan.

“I’m a dropout,” Yuusei says, with zero remorse or shame. “And bad at history.” _That_ he says with a bit of remorse. It’s something Kiryuu’s learned about Yuusei — for as smart as he is, and he is definitely a certified genius, there’s just things he sucks at. Yuusei can put together a car engine in like five minutes, but give him a math problem without context and he has to rework it into a practical application situation to solve it. He’s great at remembering the context of events or people in history but atrocious at dates. His written grammar is terrible, even if his essays usually have clever ideas and, like Kiryuu, finding concrete evidence to support himself doesn’t seem to happen too often.

“It’s okay, so’s The Man,” Kiryuu laughs.

“Will ‘The Man’ give me an A if I agree with him?” Yuusei deadpans and starts flipping through the textbook to take notes.

“He’ll probably just arrest you and steal your bike.”

They settle into companionable studying for a grand total of twenty minutes, before West reminds Kiryuu that it’s pizza night. So they take a break to order pizza, try to study more and then take a break to eat the pizza and then Yuusei has to make his weekly call. During the summer he gets in contact with two friends — apparently his _best_ friends, one from home and that guy at State. With Yuusei it was really hard to tell if he meant best friends like more than friends or if he was just being Yuusei. Usually Kiryuu lets Yuusei use the basement, but they’re comfortable on the couch and there’s no reason why he _can’t_ set up the Skype call right there, right?

“If you don’t mind,” Yuusei, as always, doesn’t mind.

“Nah, I’d like to meet these guys anyway.” Kiryuu wipes his greasy pizza fingers on the back of Yuusei’s shirt while Yuusei balances his laptop — also homemade, like just about every tech thing Yuusei owns — on the pizza boxes. “John and Roy, right?”

“Jack and Crow,” Yuusei shakes his head and calls in. Crow picks up first and he’s not at all what Kiryuu was expecting. In fact, Crow isn’t even in the frame at first, it’s a round faced kid with chocolate smeared on both cheeks who immediately says “Yuusei!”

“Hey. Is Crow around?” Yuusei waves and then the kid screeches _Crow_ until a redhead pops into frame. He looks like a punk. Earrings, lip ring and a dermal on his _cheek_ of all places. He also has another kid slung under one arm like luggage and a wooden spoon in the other.

“— oh, hey, Yuusei. ‘Sup?” Crow asks and then, “This the guy?”

Kiryuu raises his eyebrows from behind Yuusei. Crow grins and adds, “That guy who made you flunk Comp?”

“Hey, we were sticking it to administration. Real act of rebellion,” Kiryuu says. He can tell Yuusei’s rolling his eyes, only emphasized by Yuusei’s response.

“Crow, Kiryuu. Kiryuu, this is Crow, my oldest friend.”

“And your best friend, right?” Crow doesn’t get his confirmation because another screen pops up then. The exact opposite of Crow, definitely a jock. He even has a _letter jacket_ on. Kiryuu feels a smirk coming on.

“This must be John,” he points at the screen and as expected the blond jock bristles.

“And this is the deadbeat, get better taste, Yuusei.”

Yuusei didn’t bother to correct Kiryuu about Jack’s name. Instead he sits back on the couch a bit further, squishing Kiryuu back against the cushions.

“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” Crow asks.

“I’m inside.”

“Turn down the AC, then!”

“It’s the _dorms_ , idiot.”

They listen to Crow and Jack bicker, until something catches Jack’s attention and he leans closer to the screen and breaks off bickering with Crow to say, “And it’s Jack. Jack Atlas. You’ve got a lot of nerve messing up Yuusei’s life like that.”

“Jack,” Yuusei starts, but Kiryuu is the one who cuts him off.

“You’re the guy.”

Jack stops in the middle of his judgey speech — clearly wanting to ask _what guy_ , but not quite being able to bring himself to rise to Kiryuu’s bait.

“Yuusei’s mentioned you before,” Kiryuu continues.

Crow starts laughing behind his wrist — he still hasn’t put down the small child or the spoon. Yuusei hasn’t started laughing but Kiryuu can see the soft, not-wistful but rather neutrally expectant smile on his face that means he’s amused. Jack’s frown darkens a hair. He still hasn’t demanded answers, so Kiryuu ups the ante.

“He didn’t say you were so… _small._ ”

Crow loses it. He ducks off camera and they can all hear his laughter. Jack’s yelling something along the lines of _shut up!_ and _what do you know, talentless garbage!_ and a promise that when they meet in person, he’ll show Kiryuu who’s _small_.

Yuusei just says, “Next time you visit, Jack.” That shuts him right up.


End file.
